


A Wonderful Caricature of Intimacy

by Tim (boywonder)



Category: DCU - Comicverse
Genre: Crossdressing, Disguise, M/M, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-24
Updated: 2006-03-24
Packaged: 2017-10-03 21:00:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boywonder/pseuds/Tim





	A Wonderful Caricature of Intimacy

_I expect complete_ _ obedience, Robin. I mean that._

Batman's words from long ago play in Tim's mind over and over again. This isn't really anything new or unusual, but they're louder tonight. He fusses over his clothes and hair for nearly two hours and thinks back on the conversations that led up to this point. The anger and the color rise in his cheeks as he thinks.

  
\----

"Let me get this straight. You want me to be your _date_?"

"No, Robin," Batman says. There's a warning in his voice that tells Tim he's on thin ice. "You're not going _with_ me. You're going to _meet_ me there."

"Oh, for crying out loud--"

"This isn't up for debate. You can get them to talk to you in a way that I can't. Women share their secrets with one another. Not with rich men whose pants they're all trying to get into." He pauses for a moment before adding, pointedly, "And not to teenage boys, either, no matter how small and cute they might be."

"So why don't I just throw a slumber party?" Robin replies, without humor.

He can feel Batman's eyes narrow from behind the lenses of the cowl. "I told you this is not up for debate. Spend as much money as you like to get ready. But I expect to see you there."

"You want me to act like them, or what? I mean, like, 'Oh it's _really _him! Bruce Wayne in the flesh! Meet me in the closet, we'll have a _great_ time!' or something!?"

Batman glares down at him. "I'm sure you can be much more subtle than that," he says. "There are three women under suspicion for an illegal weapons ring, among other things, as I told you. All the files are on this disk. Get rid of the data after you study it. I need some real evidence, not just underground whispers. And I prefer to leave Oracle's Eyes out of it."

Robin glares back at him before taking the disk and storming off.

 

_ One week later... _

"Robin."

"What."

"I trust you're prepared for tomorrow."

"As prepared as I'm going to be," Robin says, through gritted teeth.

"I know you're capable of it." The words are what serve as reassurance coming from Batman, but they just make Tim more pissed off.

_You're not the one in a dress_, he doesn't say.

"Is that it?" he _does_ say.

"No. There's one more thing."

"...what might that be?"

"I don't want you to do anything out of character until I implicitly tell you otherwise."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. Take mental notes, or better yet - record everything you hear. But it won't be up for discussion, and you can_not_ be Tim Drake until I tell you, is that clear?"

Robin nods his head, but doesn't answer aloud. They don't speak for the rest of the evening.

  
\----

Tim tests the recording equipment. Everything seems to be fine. And it's certainly unnoticeable, placed in the diamond pendant at his throat. Everything he bought on Bruce's credit cards for the night amounted to an obscene amount - closing in on $10,000 worth of diamonds, to say nothing of the clothes. He briefly entertains the idea of keeping it all out of spite.

The limo he hired picks him up outside the hotel he isn't staying at and takes him to the hotel that the party is at - the fanciest one in the city. He's been here before, and he doesn't like it any more now than he did then.

But it doesn't show on his face. He's all perfect smiles and looks from beneath curled eyelashes, accented with come-fuck-me red lipstick. He leaves the limo driver a hundred dollar bill (courtesy of Wayne Enterprises, though the driver doesn't know that), with the promise that there's more if he stays on call. Tim figures he will, hundred dollar bills or not.

He gives the fake name to the man serving as a bouncer for the invite-only party, and shyly fishes an ID out of the expensive red silk purse he's carrying. It gets verified with no problem, as he knew it would, and he slips into the ballroom. He feels a few men glance away from their wives, mistresses, and dates, letting their eyes linger on him too long.

And why not? He makes a dazzling girl, and knows it. He worked hard to perfect the look, and spent as much of Bruce's money as he could, telling himself that it was _only_ to fit the part and had _nothing_ to do with spite.

At first, he tries to pinpoint where Bruce is. He has no luck, and decides to let it go. He can't just look for Bruce all night, or he won't get _any_ information on the three target women, and will have just pretended to be a spoiled rich girl all night for nothing, not to mention the wrath Batman will unleash on him.

Hours go by. He makes contact with two of the women, speaks idly of the older man that he married for money, and how he just won't _die_ and leave all the money behind. It's not unusual talk. The women support him. One of them alludes to having her first husband murdered. Tim suppresses the urge to vomit, and giggles behind one manicured hand.

He gets only minimal information from them, and wanders over to the drink table to take a break from girltalk for a few minutes. As he's drinking some red liquid that he _guesses_ is non-alcoholic, he scans the room again, trying to find either Bruce or that third woman. He sees no sign of Bruce, which is actually unnerving to him, but he _finally_ finds the third woman - right across the table from him. She smiles in a way that might be seductive if he were a man. As a girl, he has no idea what it might mean.

She comes around the table to him and introduces herself. The girl that Tim is introduces herself as well. The conversation rambles on about nothing interesting until the woman talks about...._murder_.

"So I hear you're looking to get rid of your husband, that right, darlin'?"

"Oh, well, I never said anything like _that_," Tim says suggestively, and giggles again.

The woman leans on the table and empties her champagne glass. "How old _are_ you, honey?"

Tim looks around to make sure no one else will hear, then leans in and tells the woman, "Nineteen. But my ID says otherwise."

The woman gives him a knowing smile and sets the glass down. She pulls Tim closer and whispers, "Getting started young is the way to go, darlin'. Now let's talk business."

They go into a lounge off the side and Tim gets tons of information on how to kill one's husband. Nothing on weapons, but lots on other things, including drugs and who has a hook-up to some high-class hitmen. It was more than he had expected, in a sense, and the Robin part of him thrills at all of this.

Finally, the woman says they don't want to "be lookin' suspicious" and they make their way back to the party. She slips Tim a white card, which he files away in his purse without looking at it. Flawless.

Now, to find Bruce.

As it turns out, he doesn't have to. The group of women he's not really talking to start making little noises that Tim recognizes as "we've just spotted a _rich_ one, girls" noises. He turns to see what they're looking at, and _finally_ Bruce is there.

He's surrounded by girls already. Tim smiles like any money-grubbing young woman would and sidles over to the group. Of course he's not the only one, but he knows Bruce will know him. He didn't wear contacts tonight on purpose.

To any other woman in the room, Tim is simply one of them - a rather short young lady with auburn hair done up and accented with (expensive) diamond strands in a long black velvet dress that has highlights of red in the light from the chandeliers. The dress is slit on the right, all the way up to the hip. He didn't bother with pantyhose, and shaving has never bothered him. The shoes he's wearing took the full week to learn how to walk in - dark red, strappy, come-fuck-me shoes to go with the lipstick. He's got a decent amount of makeup on, but not too much. His eyes are _strikingly_ blue under the smoky eye shadow. All the diamond jewelry he's wearing just means he's _certainly_ one of them - some rich debutante from somewhere snazzy, somewhere that _must_ be worth mentioning.

All the same, he knows that _Bruce_ will know.

Bruce doesn't fail to live up to his expectations. He's talking to some older blonde lady, but he lets his eyes move away from her, and look at Tim. His eyes wander over Tim's body, lingering on the fake cleavage, then running further down, to Tim's annoyance. The blonde looks annoyed, too, for a different reason. Bruce remembers to smile at her, and they continue talking. But Tim's done his work. He lets the conversation happen, and giggles in all the right places.

Finally Bruce pays attention to him. The blonde is _definitely_ annoyed, but it's apparently not unusual - the women glare jealous daggers at Tim, but don't really say much else, other than heated whispers behind their hands that Tim pretends he can't hear.  
Bruce holds out a hand and Tim takes it.

"So nice to see a fresh face in the crowd," Bruce murmurs. Tim finds it utterly ludicrous, but giggles anyway.

"So nice to be noticed as such, Mister Wayne," he purrs back.

Bruce kisses his hand, softer than he would have expected, and longer than is appropriate. He just smiles back and bats his eyelashes.

He never figures out how it happens, but he and Bruce are standing closer to the silly dance floor area of the room than he'd like.

"I'm sorry, miss, I didn't catch your name. How rude of me..." Bruce murmurs.

Tim pushes back the urge to hit him in the face. "Tabitha," he says, "Tabitha Lorraine."

"Mmn. Lorraine....Lorraine....that name sounds familiar..."

"My father holds a decent portion of your stock, Mister Wayne," 'Tabitha replies, "though recently he's been talking about LexCorp..."

Tim thinks he sees Batman in Bruce's eyes for a split second, and smiles in the most flirtatious manner he can muster, hoping that the smirk in his mind isn't on his face at all. "Of course he'd never _really_ switch. We're _Gothamites_, and Gothamites support Wayne Enterprises."  
"You flatter me," Bruce says. There's no trace of Batman now, of course, just the charm that Tim doesn't think he's really ever had the chance to see on Bruce. Certainly, it's never been directed at _him_.

He feels Bruce's steely blue eyes running down his figure again and has to fight internally to stand still, like a good girl. He thinks Bruce is taking this slightly too far and intends to say something snarky about it later.

Finally, their eyes meet again. "You look absolutely _stunning_ tonight, Tabitha," Bruce says in a voice that Tim has never heard him use before. He can't decide whether he likes it or hates it.

"Call me Tabby," he says, just to see if Bruce will. "You're not half bad yourself."

"Tabby," Bruce says slowly, as if savoring the word. Again, Tim wants to hit him. But Tabitha just smiles and cocks her head prettily to one side.

"You look even better in person than you do in all those magazines, Mister Wayne," Tabitha purrs at him.

"Please!" he says, insistently, affecting a highly-theatrical pained expression, "Call me Bruce. I always feel so _old_ when I hear it said like that, you know..."

She giggles at him and Tim can feel himself start to gag. "Bruce, then."

His eyes meet with hers for a minute, and Tim realizes what Tabby likes so much about Bruce Wayne - that look is pure magic. For a minute, he's jealous of all the women in this room who always see this look. He mentally smacks himself for such a stupid thought, and looks at the ground to avoid doing something Tim-like.

Bruce looks concerned. He reaches out and gently tilts Tabitha's chin back up. "What's the matter?"

"Hm? Oh, it's nothing, really," she says, and plants the smile firmly back on her face.

He smiles back, and nods, approvingly. "Good, good, glad to hear it!"

He sees a man with a tray and snaps at him. Tim raises a plucked eyebrow and turns to look at the man. He feels the man's eyes slide over him, and gets a feeling he doesn't like from it, like he's an object on display. He wonders idly if Kon ever gives girls that feeling.

Bruce slides one arm around Tim's nearly-bare shoulders and pulls him - _her_ \- closer, smiling at the waiter. "I'll take two of those glasses, my good man," he says.

Tim bites back a laugh at the phrase "my good man". But the waiter simply says, "Very good sir," and hands Bruce the glasses, never taking his eyes off of Tabitha.

Bruce lets Tabby go to take the glasses from the man. He doesn't bother to tip him - and of course, neither does Tabitha - and the man walks off in somewhat of a snit.

Bruce starts to offer her a glass, then pulls away, "Mmn, are you sure you're old enough to drink this?" he teases.

"Are you sure I'm old enough for you to do something quite so intimate as _offer_ me a drink?" Tim replies in Tabitha's voice.

Bruce just laughs. "Touche," he says, and hands Tim the glass.  
Tim manages to drink it in a way he's sure would count as _ladylike_ and they talk about nothing until he's finished with the champagne (which Tim discovers he hates the taste of). Of course, Bruce never touches his, but it doesn't really matter. He pantomimes drinking it, certainly, but Tim isn't an airheaded girl, no matter _what_ he looks like. Besides, he's well aware that Bruce almost _never_ drinks alcohol.

Finally, he finishes the drink and sets the glass down. There is a silence between them, though it's not uncomfortable. Bruce holds out a hand to Tabitha, which she takes without thinking about it.

"Would you care to dance?" he asks her.

Tim's heart stops. He reminds himself to kick Bruce somewhere really, _really_ damaging later for this.

Of course Tabitha can't say no to _Bruce Wayne_, not with all his charm and all his _money_, and she giggles at him. "Oh, _Bruce_," she says, blushing, "I'd _love_ to."

His smile widens and he pulls her closer.

Tim is suddenly grateful for those silly dancing lessons at Brentwood a couple years ago.

The music isn't fast - it never really seems to be at these rich people gatherings - but that's not at all comforting to Tim. The heels are _really_ starting to hurt, as well, and that doesn't help any.

Bruce dances flawlessly, of course. Tim is sure he's going to fuck this all up, right there on the dance floor, but Tabitha seems to be doing fine.

"It's been _forever_ since I danced," she breathes, looking up at Bruce from under her eyelashes, "not since I was in _school_..."

"Mmn, you're doing beautifully for someone who's out of practice," he murmurs, pulling her even closer. Tim is sure the words are some sort of complex dig at him, but he isn't sure what the reason for that might be.

Tabitha feels her body melt against him, and her eyes close. She rests her head on his shoulder and sighs without meaning to.

Tim tells himself that Tabitha is the one enjoying Bruce's arms around her, and that it has nothing to do with _him_.

The song changes, and they still dance.

As they dance, the conversation about absolutely _nothing_ picks up again, but Tim finds himself minding less. Maybe the champagne had more alcohol in it than he thought.

Finally, Bruce leads him off the dance floor. "I wonder, Miss Tabby, if it's a bit after your bedtime..."

_FINALLY_, Tim thinks.

"Oh, really, now, Brucie," he giggles, being as irritating as he can, "I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself."

Bruce laughs, "Oh, yes, I'm sure you can...."

The smile disappears from his face. There's a look on it that Tim can't read at all. Bruce's eyes stare into his for a minute. He feels a blush creep up in his face and can't figure out why.

"But couldn't we _all_ use some help...taking care of ourselves....sometimes? Especially at night..."

Tim finally figures out what the blush is about.

"Of course," Bruce continues quickly, "you'll probably want to get home to your husband..."

Tabitha laughs just a little and fiddles with her 24 carat gold wedding ring. "Oh, well, you know," she says slowly, "he's actually out of town right now. Business, you know." She lifts her eyes shyly, meeting his for a moment, "And, to tell the truth, my bed is kind of..._cold_....lately..."

_I don't believe this. He'll kill me later if I don't kill him first_, Tim thinks. But his heart beats faster under the fake breasts and he feels warm all over. There really _must_ have been all kinds of alcohol in that damn champagne.

Bruce smiles in a way that Tim knows isn't anything but sexy. "Well, you know, Miss Tabby..." he says, taking her hand, "_my_ bed can be rather...warm."

She giggles for the millionth time. "That sounds so _inviting_," she says. "I bet it's nice and..._big_....too." Tim tries to tell himself that he's talking about the bed.

Bruce's smile widens. "But of _course_."

Tim tries to tell himself that _Bruce_ is talking about the bed.

Bruce leads Tabitha by the hand, out to the front of the hotel. Bruce says that he has his _own_ car, and so Tabitha makes a small show of locating her limousine and tipping the driver _far_ too much for waiting around all night. He grins at her as if it was absolutely nothing and drives off after a few sentences of polite conversation.

Tim recognizes Alfred right away and thinks he'll die. Alfred surely _knows_ about all of this...?

Bruce ushers Tabby towards the car. Alfred opens the door for her and raises an eyebrow at Bruce. Tim isn't sure if it's because he _knows_ or because of how young Tabitha is.

"Alfred, this is Miss Tabitha Lorraine. Tabby, dear, this is my _butler_, Alfred." Tim doesn't miss the sting intended by the word 'butler" but he doesn't say anything. Of course.

Tabby holds out one hand to Alfred, who bows and kisses the air just above it. _As Bruce should have done and didn't_, Tim thinks.

"Lovely to meet you, Miss Lorraine," Alfred says, always the perfect gentleman. Tabitha giggles as she pulls her hand back.

Alfred opens the car door and lets her in. He gives Bruce a _look_ that Tim is sure Tabitha would never catch, and closes the door.

Bruce and Alfred walk around to the other side and Alfred lets Bruce in.

Bruce makes idle chatter with Tabitha on the way back. He lets his hand rest on her leg, and Tim realizes that he _must_ have done this on purpose - the slit in the dress is on the side Bruce has his hand on - _on Tabitha's bare leg_.

Tabitha remains unfazed by it, and they continue to talk. She rests her hand on top of Bruce's and runs her fingers over his.

The drive to the manor lasts a lifetime in Tim's mind, but it's not entirely unpleasant.  
Tabitha gushes about the size of the manor, as any gold-digger would do.

Bruce responds to this as expected. He says some things to Alfred that Tabitha, in her wide-eyed awe at the size of the house, doesn't hear. Tim only catches a few words, about "not wanting to be disturbed". He wonders what the hell Bruce is up to. Alfred responds tersely, but leaves them to their business...whatever that might be.

As soon as Alfred is (presumably) out of ear shot, Bruce pulls Tabitha close to him again. Closer even than when they were dancing.

Tim thinks he must be _too_ in character when he thrills at the sensation. That, or drunk.

Bruce puts a hand on Tabitha's face and runs his thumb gently along her cheek.

"You really are _such_ a lovely girl..." he says, nearly whispering.

"Oh, now, Bruce..." she says, but his finger on her too-red lips quiets her. Their eyes meet.

Bruce moves his finger away and leans down to kiss her. She doesn't stop him.

_Yeah. I have got to be totally drunk_, Tim thinks as heat floods through him.

Tabitha opens her mouth to Bruce almost too soon (or so Tim thinks). Bruce doesn't seem to have any objections, however - his tongue slides into her mouth. She makes a noise that might be "oooh" and wraps her arms around his waist.

Bruce pulls back from the kiss and leans closer, so he can talk into her ear. "How does that bed sound now?" he purrs.

"_Enchanting_," she says, almost breathlessly.

"Glad to hear it," he says. He turns away, letting his hand _slide_ along her face, and leads her up the stairs to his bedroom.

Tim feels like he's dreaming, under Tabitha Lorraine's too-sexy clothes and makeup. He wonders if Bruce is thinking straight and decides maybe he doesn't care.

Tabby doesn't have time to marvel at the bedroom or the size of _anything_ in it - Bruce is kissing her again, deeper and more fervently than before. He pulls off his suit jacket and drapes it over the door handle as the door closes behind them.

Tabitha's untrained eyes never see the tiny wire running along the inside of the jacket. But _Tim_ prays it isn't attached to anything like a camera. Or, better yet, that whatever it's attached to isn't _on_.

Bruce releases Tabby long enough to turn off all the lights in the room, save a tiny one that is hardly more than a candle on the nightstand.

Bruce is kissing her again, and she can feel herself all but moaning into his mouth.

He runs his hand down the velvet of her dress, sliding it under the slit (that Tim _knew_ was too high) and resting it on her thigh. He pulls her closer with the other arm. _Closer_. She can feel how hard he is against her stomach and gasps just a little.

Tim feels like maybe there was something narcotic in that champagne. There's not much else that could explain the feeling of the moment.

Tabitha feels a little brave and moves her hands around behind Bruce. She untucks his shirt and slips her cool hands inside. She runs her hands along his back. Tim's brain screams that there should be _some_ sort of reaction to the scars, but doesn't say anything. Tabitha pauses over a few of them, lets her fingers trace them, then moves on. Bruce stiffens almost unnoticeably and Tim feels an instant of triumph.

It's yanked away when he feels Bruce steering him backwards. They turn, and then Bruce is sitting on the edge of the bed. Tabitha stands between his legs.

_He said I have to do this...for how long!?_ Tim thinks. He doesn't think he can take it. Under the careful binding (that he'd practiced for_ever_ before getting it right) he can feel himself get hard. It might be _the_ most uncomfortable thing he's ever felt.

Bruce slides his hand further under the dress, running it along the back of Tabitha's thigh. He isn't kissing her now. Their eyes meet again. Her breath is almost ragged.

"You know, I'm half your age," she murmurs. Tim tells himself it's a mistake to say that (and reminds himself that _half_ is being generous), then decides he doesn't really care. It's certainly not as if he can take it _back_.

Bruce simply laughs. "And yet you agreed to come home with me."

"I just wanted to be clear," she says, laughing a little.

"I don't mind if you don't."

"Oh, Brucie, how could I mind!?"

Bruce smiles and starts to move his hand again.

Tim reminds himself to wash his mouth out with dishwashing detergent at least once for every time he says _Brucie_.

Bruce slides his hand along the curve of Tabitha's ass, slipping his thumb under the line of her underwear - the most expensive kind that Tim could find in the Victoria's Secret catalog. (He bought three pairs, just, well, in _case_.)

Tabitha feels heat run through her and she leans down to kiss Bruce again. This time he lets her do most of the work. She explores his mouth with her tongue, and his hand inches higher.

She feels braver still, and she moves her hands to unbutton his shirt. He lets her - why wouldn't he? - and she slides the material open and off of his shoulders. He moves his hands away from her only long enough to let the shirt drop onto the bed, and then his hand is _right_ back where it was.

She lets her hands slide along his chest some, but then she decides that there's no use waiting anymore. Tim is surprised at himself, but he's too uncomfortably hard to really care for long. Not to mention how _good_ Bruce's mouth tastes...how _good_ his hands feel...

She drops her hands to his pants and undoes his belt. She pulls her mouth away from his and starts to kiss his neck. He leans his head to the side, and his fingers tighten, _squeezing_ her ass a little. She feels her heart race.

"You're so beautiful, do you know that?" he whispers.

Tim thinks he might just come right there if Bruce says those words again.

"I don't _know_ it, but I sure like to hear you _say_ it," Tabitha whispers.

Bruce smiles again. Neither Tim _or_ Tabitha fail to notice.

Her hands undo his belt, then the button on his pants, then the zipper. She feels her hands shake as one of them wraps around his cock. Tim's conscience seems to have disappeared, and he simply lets it happen.

Tabby's hand moves faster along Bruce's cock. She feels him tense, feels his hand tighten on her ass again. After a few minutes, he grabs her wrist and stops her.  
She looks down at him, confused. He looks into her eyes, but says nothing.  
He moves his hand out from under her dress and slides it up to her shoulders. He pushes down gently and she understands. Tim is sure he's blushing like crazy under the makeup, and wishes it were darker in the room.

Tabitha kneels in front of Bruce. She kisses the tip of his cock, then runs her tongue along the head. She looks up at Bruce again from under her eyelashes, letting their eyes meet briefly, then lets her eyes close, taking as much of him as she can into her mouth.

Again Tim thinks he might die. There's something so intensely fucked up - and _infuriating_ \- about all of this. He thrills at it and hates himself at the same time. He wishes he knew what the hell Bruce was _thinking_.

As Tabitha begins to work her mouth around Bruce's cock (and Tim thinks very briefly about how glad he is for spending thirteen dollars on that sixteen-hour no-rub lipstick), Bruce's hands rest on her shoulders. She can feel him tense and loves it. She doesn't bother teasing him for very long - she _wants_ to taste him. Tim blames the champagne again before all thoughts disappear, and there's only Tabitha's mouth on Bruce's cock, moving faster and trying to get more of it in her mouth all at once.

And Bruce's hands tighten just a _little_ too tight, and he comes, saying her name.

Tim almost chokes, but not quite.

Bruce pulls Tabby to her feet, then lays back on the bed with her on top of him. Tim tries not to wiggle, but he can't _stand_ how hard he is, and how there's no real way for this stupid act to continue and for him to still get anything out of it. He wants Bruce to reciprocate - he wants to be touched, kissed, _everything_.

Bruce reaches over and turns out the light.

He pulls Tabby up closer and kisses along her neck, where there's no makeup. He sucks gently right where her neck starts to curve into her shoulder and she moans.

"_Bruce..._" Tim can't seem to make himself add the "ie" this time. But it suffices.

Bruce unzips the back of her dress and rolls her onto her side.

She can't make out his face in the darkness and doesn't care.

"I want you," she says, breathlessly.

Bruce doesn't answer her with words. Instead, he pushes her dress down off her shoulders, taking the oh-so-realistic padding with it. Tim is almost glad.

Bruce's hands don't stop there. Still sucking on her neck, he slides he hands down further and pushes her panties off with her dress. She moans and leans into his mouth. He sucks harder, and she moves her legs enough so that together, they work the dress and the underwear off. Tim is sure they'll get caught on the shoes, but somehow, they don't. Bruce doesn't bother to take the shoes off. Last, he moves his hands up again and removes all the careful binding as if it were nothing, allowing Tim's too-hard cock to finally be released from its confinement. Tim would be annoyed about the ease Bruce does this with, if he weren't so _relieved_ by it.

For a second he thinks of how fucked up and ridiculous this is - all that's left now is a boy with hair extensions, makeup, high heels, and too many diamonds...and Bruce Wayne, billionaire playboy, womanizer extraordinaire.

Bruce pulls Tim - Tabitha? - closer and whispers into his - her? - ear.

"I want you, too," he says, "...Tabby."

Tim thinks about kicking him and decides to do it later. The only response he has is to moan and press his body against Bruce's. He wonders how Bruce can still treat him like a girl this way when he's so _obviously_ hard. He knows Bruce can feel it - their bodies couldn't get much closer.

Bruce's hand slides down again. He pulls one of Tabitha's legs up so it's wrapped around his waist, then slides his hand back up and pushes one finger against _Tim's_ ass.

Tim buries his face against Bruce's chest and tries not to scream as he pushes his finger inside.

"You still want me?" Bruce asks, but Tim is sure the question is all for show.  
"Of _course_ I do!" he says in Tabitha's voice.

"Mmn...good...." Bruce whispers. Tim can't help but wonder if that's a reference to Tim's Oscar-deserving performance.

Bruce moves his finger again, and Tim feels his hands clench on Bruce's shoulders - there's too much resistance and he knows it.

Bruce pulls his hand away for a moment and rolls far enough away to do..._something_ in the darkness.

Tim hears the noises and thinks he understands. He has a moment of clarity where he realizes that this is all _incomparably_ wrong and fucked up and that he _shouldn't_ enjoy it so damn much before he stops thinking with his brain. He wiggles against Bruce, mostly involuntarily, and Bruce _finally_ turns back around.

This time when he puts his hand back, Tim can feel the lubricant on his fingers, thankfully enough. It hurts significantly less when Bruce pushes inside him this time.

He cries out into Bruce's chest, not caring whose voice it is, and pushes back against Bruce's hand, wanting more and wanting it _now_. Bruce moves his fingers inside of Tim and sends shockwaves of pleasure through him. He moves with Bruce as best as he can, crying out wordlessly against Bruce. Bruce goes faster.

"_Brucie_..." he manages. That will mean one more pump from the soap dispenser, and he doesn't care.

Bruce moves his hand _hard_, and Tim is _sure_ it's some kind of punishment for using that stupid pet name. But it hurts in the best way, and he pushes back against Bruce's hand again.

Bruce keeps Tim pulled up against him with one arm, and just _fucks_ him with his hand. Tim can't seem to still his hips.

Finally, he comes, nearly biting through his lip and _still_ failing to be anything resembling quiet.

Bruce kisses along his neck again, and won't stop moving his hand. Tim wants to scream for more than a few different reasons.

"...B...bruce..." he says, somehow still managing to use Tabitha's voice.

"Mmn, Tabby..." Bruce responds. Tim no longer cares. He can't even find the urge to kick him.

"I want you _so badly_..."

Bruce moves his hand faster and Tim can't think anything coherent to save his life.

He feels like he's going to come again just like this, and has an insane moment where he thinks that this _must_ be that multiple orgasms thing that women's magazines all talk about....then Bruce finally pulls his hand away.

Tim has to squeeze his eyes shut to avoid _glaring_ up at Bruce.

"I want you, too," Bruce finally says, in that voice that Tim both loves and hates - a voice he wishes were for _him_ and not for _Tabby_.

Bruce doesn't wait for an answer. He moves away a little. Without being told, Tabitha moves closer to the middle of the bed, on her stomach instead of her side. Bruce moves again, this time towards her. He runs his hand down her back and she shivers.

He moves behind her and leans down, moving her hair away to kiss the back of her neck. She shivers _again_ and her hips move up towards him. His hand rests on her hip, and he draws her up onto her knees.

Tim thinks again of how fucked in the head he and Bruce both must be for this, and then there is nothing but Bruce's cock inside him and the screams he's making into the pillow. He pretends Bruce is saying his name instead of Tabby's. They both begin with T, anyway....

Bruce's hand tightens on her hip and she moves with him, harder and faster and more frantically. Tim can feel his cock get hard again and he wishes Bruce would touch him there, just for a minute....but of course Bruce doesn't. He still kisses the back of _Tabitha's_ neck, and she cries out again as he begins _sucking_ there, instead.

Finally, they're coming, together, and she forgets to scream into the pillow this time. Bruce's hand squeezes too tight on her hip - Tim is sure it's not an accident - and they lay there for nearly a full minute before he pulls out.

They lay there together, and Bruce pulls her close again, letting her lay her head on his chest.

"You're _perfect_," Bruce whispers, though it's unclear whether that's part of this fucked up act...or a compliment for Tim.

Tim can't think of anything to say. He can hardly _think_ at all. He doesn't remember falling asleep.

 

* * *

"Tim."

Bruce's voice cuts through Tim's dreamless sleep. He has a hard time opening his eyes and can't figure out why. Finally, they slide open and he looks up at Bruce's face. The room is still dark, but it's not surprising.

Tim rolls over. He's a little sore, and the nights _activities_ flood back into his brain. His eyes open wider. _The mascara. That's why my eyes wouldn't open. Oh, FUCK.  
_  
"Bruce..." he begins.

Bruce just shakes his head and Tim closes his mouth. Bruce tilts his head and _studies_ Tim for a minute.

"I really don't like that shade of lipstick on you," Bruce finally says.

Tim glares at him and rolls back over, annoyed and embarrassed. He notices that the _shoes_ are finally gone. So is all the expensive jewelry. Bruce must have taken everything off. That means Tim probably won't get to keep it all, which makes him irrationally _more_ annoyed.

"Tim."

"Bruce," Tim says, sounding almost like he's pouting.

Bruce pulls down the covers some. Tim grits his teeth and refuses to try and take the covers back. Bruce's hand rests on his back. He squeezes his eyes shut and makes a valiant effort to ignore Bruce.

Bruce leans down and breathes into his ear. "You did an excellent job."

Batman would never be so open with his compliments. Tim didn't think Bruce would, either, but, well, Bruce is apparently _full_ of surprises.

"....thank you..." Tim manages in a small voice.

Bruce pulls him over onto his back. Tim can't bring himself to struggle.

Bruce's mouth covers Tim's, and his tongue slides into Tim's mouth. The kiss isn't as deep or as long as Tim wants it to be. All too soon, Bruce stands again. Tim _stares_ at him.

Bruce studies him again, and Tim finds Batman there in his eyes. "Meet me _downstairs_ in an hour. I want to go over what you found out."

He's holding the diamond pendant. Tim feels his face flush as he wonders just _how much_ ended up on tape. He makes a mental note to find the dishwashing detergent as soon as Bruce is done with him.


End file.
